The Open Canvas of Silence
by PixieRed
Summary: Makoto struggles with rumors at the beginning of her third year of high school. A chance meeting in the library causes a change in perspective. Written for Day 3 of Makoto Niijima Week 2019: What If?


"I bet it was Niijima. She totally narced on us to curry favor with the teachers."

Niijima Makoto stopped at the sound of her name. She recognized the voice—Aihara-san from class 3-C.

What was it this time?

Makoto hadn't said much more than a "good morning" to Aihara-san for months, much less been keeping track of what she was up to. They hadn't even been in the same class since first year.

"She told on Watase and he was kicked out of the music club."

Makoto pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes. Watase-san was only in that club to harass another student _and_ his antics almost damaged one of the instruments. Just because she intervened, _at the request of the club_, when things were severe didn't mean she was going out of her way to look for trouble. Aihara-san knew better than to do something so actionable.

But just how many other students were hearing this, thinking this?

It was the end of the day. The hallways were packed. Groups of students were heading towards the practice building. Members of the "go home" club were taking the stairs.

"The teachers'll make a big deal of it cuz it's her."

Makoto sighed. She gathered herself up, standing a little taller.

_Walk with confidence._

She rounded the corner, finding Aihara-san with three other girls. They all turned to look at her.

"I couldn't help but overhear my name," Makoto stated, projecting her voice as she often did in her student council president role.

_Stick to the facts._

"I don't know the situation," Makoto continued. "But I haven't done anything regarding the four of you. I would appreciate it if you didn't jump to conclusions."

"Really?" Aihara-san took a step forward, scowling. "It wasn't you who got the old literature club room locked? We were just using it for practice you know. We weren't hurting anyone."

"I didn't even know the room was left unlocked," Makoto didn't back down. She closed her eyes slowly and re-opened them. "It wasn't me, but if you want space, form a club and submit a room request."

Having said her piece, Makoto walked through the group, her eyes focused on the door to her destination, the student council room.

Aihara-san and the others were quick to return to their conversation.

"Now she's trying to cover it up with that stupid form."

"Was she eavesdropping on us? Gross."

"What's her problem?"

Makoto gripped the handle of the door to the student council room. It was cool and smooth in her hand, promising salvation from the judgement of her fellow students. She sighed again as she opened the door and stepped inside. Third year had barely begun and already people were angry with her. She hadn't even _done_ anything.

"Tough day Niijima?" Sato-san was sitting on the sofa, clutching her phone in front of her.

"Aihara-san and her friends think I had them kicked out of the literature club," said Makoto as she closed the door behind her. She leaned against, as if that could further block out the world.

"Aihara was in the literature club?" Sato-san's eyebrows raised.

"No, but she and her friends were apparently using the room," explained Makoto. "It's the first I've heard of it."

"Why didn't you just tell them to apply for space?" Sato-san's gaze had dropped back to her phone. Her thumb was swiping across the screen.

"I did," Makoto walked over to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. "It's just... she's telling everyone that it was me. It's not. I haven't said anything to or about Aihara-san at all."

"Yeah that sucks," Sato-san looked up from her phone. "Aihara told everyone I was dating salarymen for cash. I got called in by Ushimaru to talk about it."

"Yes, I remember," Makoto began. It had been early in their second year. Aihara-san had quite the tongue. "Now I'm worried that-"

"I could tell some guys were thinking I was easy after that. Tch," Sato-san's thumb seemed to hit her phone especially hard. "I bet some still do."

"I hope not," Makoto offered. "I haven't heard anyone saying anything."

"Who knows?" Sato-san was glowering when she stood up. "I don't want to think about this. I'm going to meet up with Hirota and the others after all. If she actually submits that form, I'm not taking care of it."

Makoto watched Sato-san leave, half expecting her to slam the door on the way out.

Hirota-san and the others—it sounded nice. Makoto didn't have a large group of friends to run to, people who would refute Aihara-san's claims.

Sato-san was right though. It would be better not to be around should Aihara-san have student council business. Wada-san would be in soon. He could take care of it.

Makoto jotted down a note, then picked up her bag and headed next door to the library. She didn't want to go home in case something came up that needed her attention. It was best to stay near the student council room, especially until Wada-san arrived. She might as well use the time try to get some studying in.

The paneled desks were already occupied but one of the large round tables was open. Books were spread upon it, not yet re-shelved by the student workers. The mess was probably why no one had sat down. She carved herself out some space and began working on practice problems.

The library was noisy. It was one of the reasons Makoto seldom worked there. She tried to focus, but after her earlier run in, it was hard not to listen, especially when she was often the subject.

"Ms. Chouno seems tough but as long as you show effort you'll get a good grade."

"They're doing a special on him tomorrow night. My prince!"

"I thought the school was wasting money on the planters but the garden club maintains them. They look professional!"

"That's the student council president. She reads college-level books but she also reads sci-fi and stuff."

At least they weren't all bad, but...

"Not just a delinquent, a _violent criminal_ transferred into second year."

"She's got boys wrapped around her finger just because of that ridiculous body."

"That guy assaulted some lady in his home town."

"Little miss perfect's just kissing up for a recommendation letter."

Most were as she had feared. The negatives seemed to always drown out the positives.

"They're gonna cancel the sports festival just because that one chick jumped."

"Did you see the transfer student trying to act all perfect? He's up to something."

"Uh oh. It's Niijima. She's probably here to get someone in trouble."

Makoto held her chin in her hand, hiding her frown and trying to look like she was deep in her studies. She didn't know that voice. Had she ever even spoken to him? Why was minding her own business assumed to be something it was not?

Students came and went, but no one joined Makoto at her table even as the other seats filled. Some were even standing in the aisles. Was she really to be avoided to _that_ extent?

Makoto kept her eyes on her notebook, not wanting people to see her worry. She knew better than to give them the satisfaction. That would only make it worse.

A buzz by her thigh brought Makoto's attention to her phone. She took it out, finding a message from Hasegawa-san. "Nanami-chan seems pretty down right now. I'm going with her and the others. You and Wada will be okay on your own, right?"

Makoto knew she should respond promptly. All it took was a simple "thanks for letting me know." It just seemed so difficult. Instead, she just put the phone back in her pocket.

Maybe... maybe if she didn't keep up appearances. Maybe if she was more forthright, like Sato-san...

No.

That hadn't worked earlier.

What worked for Sato-san wasn't necessarily going to work for her.

The crowded library seemed more lonely. She tried tidying the unshelved books. Perhaps if there was more table space...

Nobody came.

"I heard he already threatened a teacher."

"The track team's just a bunch of thugs anyway."

"He was showing off by coming late his first day of class."

"She looks down on everyone who's not an ass-kissing robot like her."

Makoto looked at the clock. It was conveniently the opposite direction from the students were gossiping about her. Unfortunately, it would still be quite a while before she could go home.

She turned back to her empty table. She needed to get back to work. Sis had told her to focus on her exams and get into a good college. That would be the start of a successful career. Sis had told her not to get bogged down in high school drama. It wasn't worth her time.

Sis had made it sound so easy.

Makoto picked up her pen and began copying the next problem into her notebook. She reminded herself of her goals once more. It didn't matter what other people thought or that she was sitting alone. In just a year's time, it, all of it, would be behind her.

"Hello." A deep voice.

Makoto turned, finding an unfamiliar face. Her gaze briefly dropped to his lapel. A second year, but one she didn't know. Much like Hasegawa-san's message, dealing with him seemed to require an enormous amount of effort... effort that was going to be wasted on someone who probably hated her anyway. However, it _was_ her job as student council president to address matters of the student body.

"Hm?" Makoto forced out her usual polite smile, as if everything was okay. "Is something the matter?"

The background chatter continued. "Whoa, the transfer student. What's he doing in the library?"

_Oh. So this was the transfer student._

He wasn't in her year and he couldn't have any student council business so soon. Was he trying to kiss up to her because he heard she was the rules police?

Why did everybody...

Makoto could feel her modest smile trying to crumble. She needed to get rid of him, everyone. "If you don't need anything, please don't bother me. I'm very busy right now."

His eyes seemed to open wider and his lower lip fell. He glanced across the table for a moment, then back to her, and finally to the floor beneath them. "Right. Excuse me."

_That was strange._

The transfer student disappeared behind the bookshelves. Makoto returned to her notebook.

She worked out a few more practice problems. They weren't difficult. The real problem was that between each one her mind would wander. Aihara-san's accusation. Sato-san's indifference. The look the transfer student gave her.

_The look the transfer student gave her._

Makoto lifted her head as realization struck her. The way he glanced over the table—what if he hadn't wanted anything of _her_, he just wanted to know if he could _sit down_?

She pulled her head in towards her chest, feeling her cheeks begin to burn. He hadn't said anything. She had just _assumed_ he had poor intentions.

_Just like how everyone treated her._

Makoto stood up and looked around the library, but the transfer student was long gone.

––––– ––––– –––––

"You just know he's gotta be picking on first years."

Makoto searched the halls for the transfer student. She had to apologize.

Now that she was attuned not only to her own name, but rumors about him as well, she couldn't stop hearing them... and there were so very many.

"That new delinquent guy was trying every door, probably looking for something to fence."

The only thing Makoto knew for sure about the transfer student was that he seemed to get around. She supposed it made sense for a new student to explore their surroundings, but it seemed she was always a step behind.

Turning into the practice building, she spotted him speaking with another student by the bulletin boards.

Well... perhaps not _speaking_. The other student was doing all the talking.

She waited just far enough away so as not to catch their conversation.

"Ah! Niijima-senpai!"

Makoto turned to find the president of the arts and crafts club.

"Just who I wanted to see!" he continued. "We want to make some modifications to our room and..."

She peeked over to the bulletin board. The transfer student was once again gone.

––––– ––––– –––––

Makoto had similar luck the next day and the one after and the one after that. Whenever she did manage to catch sight of the transfer student, someone else was talking to him. All too often she in turn got interrupted with student council business and the few times she did not, she couldn't seem to slip into the conversation before he disappeared.

Her apology was going to be late-coming if she ever got to deliver it.

At the same time, the rumors persisted. Spending so much time watching him, it was hard to reconcile what the other students said with how the transfer student, or rather _Amamiya Ren_, actually behaved. The bits of his record that had leaked online were pretty damning, but what if there was more to it? What if he wasn't the criminal they made him out to be?

He really did seem like an earnest, if quiet, person.

It was as if that reserved nature, that silence, was an open canvas that anyone could paint over with whatever they deemed interesting.

Amamiya-san didn't say anything untoward. He didn't do anything ill. However, his reticence only left a void where the ideas, the imaginings of what he _could_ be doing, what he _could_ be thinking, seemed to flourish.

Few were tangible enough to fight. Makoto hadn't yet figured out how either. Her conversation with Aihara-san seemed to do little. It was no wonder Amamiya-san didn't bother.

There would always be times when another was unobservable. Those empty spots could be dyed with anything and everything, a mottle of colors that would eventually combine to a dark mess. It didn't even need to be that. When things were already dark, the canvas must seem pitch black to an observer, inviting their fears.

Once given a bias, the unknowns were drawn in, sometimes... or maybe most of the time... with false assumptions. The more canvas one left, the easier it was for others to fill.

_I'm the same, aren't I? It's not just Amamiya-san, maybe we're all-_

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted him through the windows. She leaned to the glass, verifying his identity. She had become adept at picking him out, though she had to admit she had had several false sightings.

He was heading towards the vending machines in the courtyard.

Makoto raced down the stairs. A faint "Is that Niijima-senpai?" barely registered as she flew through the hallway.

She was careful with the door. Even in her rush, she didn't want to slam it. A few turns later and she by the vending machines, staring at not only Amamiya-san, but Sakamoto-san as well. The other student had gotten into a fight with Mr. Kamoshida the year before. Two assault cases—already pairing up.

Maybe... maybe she had been painting over Amamiya-san too, only with a different brush. False hope was still false.

"Eh? What do you want?" Sakamoto-san took a hard stomp in her direction, his shoulders popping up to punctuate his challenge.

She couldn't get angry. Hadn't she done the same?

Makoto looked over to Amamiya-san. He was looking at her, not with the glare of Sakamoto-san, but not with anything inviting either. She couldn't even tell if he recognized her.

"Sorry," Makoto looked between the two of them as she took a step back. "My mistake."

It wasn't the apology she had planned, but she wanted to interrupt them no further. She headed back inside, the doors feeling heavier at her half-hearted pushing. The hallway chatter seemed heavier too.

"Someone saw him carrying a knife."

"You know she's sleeping with Mr. Kamoshida."

"She'd sell anyone out for a letter."

"Why did they even let him in here?"

Maybe he was like they said. He _was_ with Sakamoto-san after all. He seemed to be up to _something_.

Her stomach churned. It was all too easy to assume of another.

_If only we could rise above this._

Makoto's father had taught her to listen to her suspicions. However, he had also taught to her follow up. Suspicions, fears weren't truth. Perhaps she would have to observe the transfer student a little longer.


End file.
